The Theory on TwentyEight
by chibi-veneficus
Summary: Every dog gets his day and it's about time Skids got his. 28 drabbles on the most forgotten member of the Ark.
1. Angsty

Huh, it appears I finally worked up the guts to post these little drabbles I've been writing off and on for practice in my writing class. I hope you all enjoy my attempt at writing Skids since all I have to go on is Teletraan 1 and his two (very brief) appearances in the G1 cartoon.

_**EDITED 11 / 12 / 209**_

**Disclaimer:** I don't, in any way, own the Transformers. Except for my Waspinator toy. That's mine.

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4 -- Angsty

"_You desire to know the art of living, my friend? It is contained in one phrase: make use of suffering._" -- Henri-Frédéric Amiel

Skids slumped down onto his tiny berth inside of the glorified closet that others called his quarters, hugging his legs to his chassis. He shuttered his optics, trying and failing to ignore the throbbing pain coming from one of his door-wings and let loose a shaky intake he had been holding in. Unable to fight it any longer, the mech let loose a pent up whine of frustration which escalated into frame shaking sobs that he had been withholding nearly all day.

And it had been a long one, to say the least. He had started his shift early, out on perimeter patrol in an acid rain which had been highly uncomfortable but light enough that it wouldn't eat his armor off of his frame. Skids had had to remain in it for twice the recommended amount of time due to him being forgotten for a shift change, again, with only one scant cube of energon keep him up and running. With his impromptu second shift almost over, barely breems until it ended, the Decepticons had decided to attack.

The offense had lasted several joors, the Decepticons finally retreating only when they had had too many losses for their liking. The Autobots weren't without their own casualties. Though Skids himself was only covered in blaster residue and his left door-wing had been slightly dislocated from a nasty tumble he had taken in the fray, he wasn't as bad off as some of the others and it forced him down to the bottom of the medical triage.

Instead of waiting around in the thoroughly depressing hallway outside of the med bay, the theoretician wandered slowly down in the direction of the wash racks to see if he could clean some of the blaster scores off of his armor…only to discover that not one of wash racks were working due to an old pipe main bursting within one of the walls in a neighboring hallway.

Practically falling into stasis from a lack of energy, left wing still throbbing, as dirty as a rusted scrap heap and utterly discouraged at life in general, Skids resisted the urge to just fold up into a little ball and scream at the unfairness of it all right where he was. He managed to push it all aside until after he had gotten just enough energon into his systems that his processor wasn't threatening deactivation and back into his very small quarters before finally succumbing to his emotions.

Maybe it wouldn't have been so bad if he had some friends to confine in, to have other mechs that understood what he was going through and gave him just a tad bit of sympathy to ease his woes. The unit transfer he had just went through barely orns ago had made sure that that wouldn't happen. Not only did most of the mechs on base (even in his own unit!) not know him or even try to chat him up, half of the time they didn't even know he was _there_ until he spoke.

Skids felt more alone and insignificant then he had ever felt before in his long life.

He fell into an uneasy recharge in the corner of his small berth, still hugging his legs and sporting battle damage, wishing that tomorrow would never come.


	2. Happy

I would like to thank you all for the reviews, you know how to make a girl happy (sheepishly rubs back of head). Here's the next chapter; I hope you all enjoy.

_**EDITED 11 / 19 / 209**_

**Disclaimer:** I still don't own Transformers. Nor do I own that little bit of betting stuff at the end. That was taken from the book _Acorna_ since I have absolutely no gambling experience.

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2 -- Happy

"_True happiness is of a retired nature, and an enemy to pomp and noise; it arises, in the first place, from the enjoyment of one's self, and in the next from the friendship and conversation of a few select companions." _-- Joseph Addison

"Is this seat taken?"

Skids, badly startled from idly theorizing about parallel dimensions as he partook in his evening refuel, nearly spilled his slowly cooling energon all over the tabletop. He quickly looked up at the patiently waiting red and blue mech that was hovering over the open seat across the table. After trying and failing to compose himself from his spectacular near jump from out of his chair, Skids offered a negative and the stranger seated himself quite comfortably across from him.

Several minutes of the awkward kind of silence passed before the new mech spoke up after taking a long sip of his energon. "So, you new here or something? Never seen you around before."

The theoretician scoffed angrily at his new table partner's word choice before he could mute his vocalizer. The new mech tilted his helm in question but didn't comment as Skids hurriedly took a gulp of his cooling energon, trying to pretend the slip hadn't happened. He had a feeling he was failing again.

"So…what unit are you assigned to?" The mech valiantly tried to start a conversation again. Persistent guy.

"Ah, unit 34-B7. Under Blacker." Skids while staring at a very interesting rusted splotch on the table. Before the war had begun he had been a fairly friendly teacher, an open mech to new mechanoids of knowledge young and old. Now that he had been forcefully dragged into a war he had wanted nothing to do with, the once outgoing theoretician had withdrew into himself, taking his ease with new mechs with him. Being routinely forgotten had bitterly helped.

New mech hummed in acknowledgment, not at all phased by his companion's choice of item to stare at, before adding in his two credits. "I'm in unit 36-A8. Stuck with hard aft Prowl, as luck would have it." Here he winced as if remembering something unpleasant but quickly smoothed his features and went back to chatting up Skids. "Anyway, he's not all that bad but he does drive you tough. Say, what did you do before the war?"

That swift topic change threw Skids completely for a loop. "Eh?" Was his intelligent answer back and he glanced briefly up to the mech's optics in question before remembering himself and looking back down at his cold cube of energon next to the rusted spot.

"I said, what did you do before the war?" New mech asked again without any hint of exasperation in his tone. "I myself was a broker at Kaon's underground betting ranks. Actually, I was a pretty slaggin' good one. Stupid Decepticreeps ruining my business…" the last part was mumbled angrily to himself and the mech took an angry swing of his energon before banging the now empty cube on the table.

Skids looked back up, mouth agape at the mech's nerve to say something so illegal out in the wide open for anyone to overhear. "You were an illegal broker in Kaon?" He couldn't believe it.

The red and blue mech shrugged his door-wings as if it wasn't such a big deal. "All of us did something before the war. That's what I did. Which leads back to the original question: What did you do?"

Still thrown for a loop, all Skids could do was answer. "Uh, well…I was a teacher in Iacon. I taught others on the theories of mathematics, art, and other such subjects."

"Mathematics, you say?" The mech across from Skids raised a hand to cup his chin in a thinking pose, his door-wings flickering and rising up in interest. The evil glint in his optic certainly did not help Skids's sudden uneasiness. "All right, suppose, and this is just speculation mind you, that you're booking on a race where the favorite is running three to two, so you offer slightly better odds - like, say, six to five."

"That is much better," Skids heard himself say, his traitorous mind running the numbers and having his vocalizer working without his permission. "One should not go more then seven to four."

A delighted smile lit up the other mech's face. "Exactly! Primus, it's nice to finally have a mech planet side that can actually do math. Say, what's your name anyway?"

To the theoretician's surprise, his mouth was quirking up into the smallest of smiles in response to the other mech's delight. "I go by the designation Skids. Yours?"

"Call me Smokescreen," was the friendly reply, "and I do believe this could be the start of a beautiful friendship."

And Skids believed him.


	3. Exhausted

Poor Skids. Luckily, he should be getting a break the next few prompts.

Also, the use of Bluster implies I spend why to much time on the Transformers Wiki. That random button is just so tempting though...

_**EDITED 12 / 14 / 209**_

**Disclaimer: **I do not, in any shape or form, own the Transformers nor the name Meguiars. Just the files from the torrents I found around the web.

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25 -- Exhausted

"_You're through. Finished. Burned out. Used up. You've been replaced. . . forgotten. That's a lie!" -- _Charles R. Swindoll

Skids's day was not going well. This, in and of itself, was certainly not new to the theoretician. He was cursed with the knowledge that he was _far_ from the luckiest mech to ever inhabit Cybertron. This day, however, seemed to be trying its darndest to put all of his other Bad Days to shame…and it was succeeding most spectacularly.

The day started off wrong from the get go. Instead of recharging for the entirety of his rest cycle, Skids had had to spend most of it awake finishing up on a battle tactics exercise pushed on him by the rest of his unit. He had barely recharged for a joor after concluding the exercise before something quietly rattling overhead roused him from his berth. It had turned out to be Ravage skulking about in the ventilation shaft and after tearing his hind leg free from the grill that had captured it, the spy turned tail and fled as Skids sounded the alarm. The following questions and answers from his superiors had eaten up his remaining recharge time and the theoretician found himself booted into communications duty before he knew it.

Communications duty itself usually wasn't too bad…except he had had to spend it with Bluster. The mech enjoyed playing obscure (and usually bad) Cybertronian jingles at absurd volumes whenever he was on duty. Primus knew the higher-ups had tried everything to make him stop but unless his brother, Blaster, was there hovering over his shoulder, the communications expert continued right on playing. By the time his shift finally ended, Skids was sure the rendition of "Meguiar's: Cybertronian's Best, Clear Wax!" would forever be playing in the back of his CPU.

Trying in vain to drown out the merciless jingle with thoughts on the theosophical relativity of space and time, Skids trudged down to the rec room to pickup his sorely needed energon ration. He got there with no incidents and was even able to get a cube and sit down before a fight broke out between a minibot and another mech at the other end of the room. Skids managed to ignore the brawling pair and the mechs egging them on until they blindly smashed into his table, knocking his arm holding his half finished energon cube all down his chassis.

Skids forlornly looked down at his messy front wearing the remainder of his cycle's rations before standing up and walking swiftly away from the oblivious mechs still going at it. By this time all the blue mech wanted to do was collapse into stasis lock before anything else happened but his bad luck still conspired against him. As he was on his way back to his quarters he ran into his unit leader, Blacker. Skids then proceeded to get lectured on proper maintenance and cleaning (for you see, Ravage had clawed up his fore plating as he had been trying to capture the spy and he had yet to clean up the energon caked on his front from the rec room scrap) and oh, by the way, where is that exercise data pad that's due today?

Skids calmly handed over said pad, managed to get a small 'good day' out and changed his direction to that of the wash racks as he felt his leader's stare burn in between his door wings. The usually mellow mech silently stewed in rather unkind thoughts as he almost stomped his way down the corridor. As absorbed in his angry inner monologue as he was, he ran straight into Smokescreen fresh from the wash racks.

"Primus Skids!" The red and blue mech exclaimed as he helped his friend off his aft. "What the Pit happened to you?"

The heated thoughts that were rocketing back and forth in Skids's processor suddenly lost their hot air and collapsed upon themselves, leaving the theoretician feeling even more drained than before. His door-wings nearly folded completely down across his back as he slumped wearily in Smokescreen's concerned grasp and released a long, low sigh from his intakes.

"That bad, huh?" Smokescreen asked even though he already knew the answer. After Skids nodded his confirmation Smokescreen sighed himself before maneuvering one of Skids's arms around his shoulder, one of his own arms wrapping around Skids's waist for additional support. "Come on then," he said and began moving back towards the wash racks, nearly dragging his limp friend along, "I'll help you clean up you magnet of misfortune."

Skids grunted out what could have been interpreted as a thanks.


	4. Excited

I'd just like to say that the friendship between Skids and Smokescreen will stay just like that: friendship. I admit that I tried to make it into something more but they certainly had something to say about that.

And with this chapter, this mini-arch is completed (yeah!).

**Disclaimer: **I do not own the Transformers. I'm just borrowing them for a bit.

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8 -- Excited

"_The frontiers were sort of wide open. It was that sense of excitement that we really wanted to spark in everybody else wherever we went." _-- Bill Gates

When Smokescreen sauntered into their quarters looking all the world like the proverbial cyber-cat that had finally eaten the proverbial laser-hawk, Skids shrugged it off as the gambler winning a large bet on a couple of suckers who now owned nothing but their armor on their backs. Well, for once, he was somewhat right. But mostly wrong.

"Pack your bags, my good gentlebot," the mech said in a voice that bludgeoned to death the snobbish, high-class Tower accents, "for we are leaving this Pit of a hole."

It took a second or two for Skids to translate the horrible accent to recognizable Cybertronian. "…we are being transferred to another base?"

Smokescreen, thank Primus, dropped the ridiculous accent as he responded, dropping to look under his berth for items long lost and forgotten. "Yeah, I got the ping today after I did some favors for some mechs I know. We're going to one of the bases closer to Iacon, Zeta-something-or-another. I _know_ that it's ten times better then this scrap heap." He paused in his fruitless search for reusable items to look at him over his door-wing. "…What's the matter with you?"

The theoretician snapped out of searching through his databanks to frown down at his roommate. "I do not recall ever being pinged with such news. Perhaps only you are being relocated." The last part was said with poorly concealed sadness colorizing his voice. He didn't know what he would do if Smokescreen ever left him to his own devices. Though Skids was loathed to admit it, he had come to depend quite heavily on his only friend in these turbulent times.

He returned the frown and sat up from his uncomfortable position half under the berth. "Huh, that is weird…Oh well, it doesn't matter." And just like that his trademark smile appeared as he stood up to pat Skids's shoulder reassuringly. "Even if you didn't get a ping, I got a ping for both of us. And if that isn't good enough, I'll make sure to smuggle you on board. I know mechs that know mechs that know some more mechs."

Skids snorted in amusement at his friend's choice of words. "Oh, I do not doubt that in the least." An uneasy pause. Then, carefully, "Are we really being transferred? It is not a fluke?"

"What did I just say? Even if it is a fluke, which I know for sure that it's not, I'd still make sure that we'd leave this scrape pile of a base. I don't know about you but I'm sick of this place and could use a change of scenery."

His fear smoothed over with reassurance, Skids permitted himself to feel eager - thrilled, really - at this news. It hadn't been to long since he had been stationed at this base but he had always felt he hadn't belonged, especially around the warrior types. "Do you know when we will be departing?"

"The next shuttle out of this place, actually," was the tactician's reply with another smirk, "so I need to go finish some business of mine before we ship off. I'll be back to help you lug all of your data pads to the shuttle." And with an affectionate flick to his windshield, Smokescreen sauntered out in very much the same manner as coming in.

Skids made sure that his roommate was out of audio range before allowing himself to jump out of his chair, shout an enthusiastic "YES!" to the empty room, pumping his arms up into the air before proceeding to calm down and rustle up a box large enough to place his sizeable collection of data pads in. The barely held back smile plastered all over his face spoke volumes of how happy and eager he was to leave and start anew. Maybe there would even be scientists at the new base? Even if there weren't, he would still have Smokescreen and that was enough for him.


	5. Dominant

Note -- this takes place in the Binaltech universe. For more info on it, check out the Wikia.

**Disclaimer:** Last time I checked, I didn't own them. I'm pretty sure I still don't.

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16 -- Dominant

"_The art of leading, in operations large or small, is the art of dealing with humanity, of working diligently on behalf of men, of being sympathetic with them, but equally, of insisting that they make a square facing toward their own problems."_ -- Unknown

The base stationed on Dinobot Island was abuzz with activity as mechs hurried to and fore checking graphs, eyeing defense parameters, and making sure that the path to the time anomaly was clear. At the center of all the activity was Skids, frowning down at the screen before him as if it was the cause of all their current problems. However, the poor screen was not to blame; it was all that blasted Decepticon Ravage's fault.

"Perceptor, how is Wheeljack's memory databank download going?" He asked via the base's comm. system while he simultaneously checked on the progress of the drone being built to deliver it. So far, everything was going exactly according to plan. It made Skids feel uneasy.

There was a brief pause before the other mech responded. _"We are at eighty-seven percent with the download,"_ the brisk voice said through the speakers._ "It shan't take much longer if the process continues on as efficiently as it has been. We should be ready within the next breem or two."_

The feeling of unease increased. Skids ignored it in favor of sending an affirmative to Perceptor and checking up on the defense parameters again. It was all too easy. Why would Ravage go through all that trouble to alter history, ensuring that the Autobots would fall to Unicron, only to allow it be corrected without a fight? The statistics just didn't add up to the theoretician.

He didn't allow his insecurity to show on his face. It wouldn't be very leader-ish of him to unnecessarily worry his troops. They needed him to stay calm, be the voice of reason if an emergency flared up. He could _not_, under any circumstance, loose his processor. Optimus Prime himself had chosen him to lead this mission; failure _was not_ an option.

"Sir, the drone has been complete!" Skids snapped out of his thoughts to nod at the mech his acknowledgement.

"Please go prep it to receive the databank." The mech saluted and briskly walked back the way he came. Skids watched him go with the uneasy feeling growing tenfold in his spark. Something bad was going to happen, that he knew for sure, but when? And how?

The feeling continued to plague him until he was distracted from it with the news that the download of Wheeljack's memory databank had been successfully completed. "The drone has already been prepped, Perceptor," he responded back after hearing the good news. "Please go load it immediately. The faster the time stream is corrected, the better I believe."

"_Affirmative. I will begin the outfitting immediately. Perceptor out."_ Skids sat back and released a pent up air take. Perhaps his uneasy feeling was just all in his processor. All they had to do now was send the drone into the time anomaly and hope that their message got through safely. Against all odds it seemed like they were -

Just as the proximity alarms went off, a large blast shook the base to its very foundation. Standing mechs stumbled before righting themselves and rushing off towards their battles stations as Skids shouting out orders to prepare for combat. _I knew Ravage would not sit idly back! _He thought bitterly to himself as he keyed in a few commands to bring up an outside video feed and felt his spark lurch in his chassis.

An entire fleet of Decepticons were knocking at their doorstep and every single one of they had their weapons trained on the base. Skids only allowed a split second of terror grip him before shaking it roughly aside for later. He needed to hold them off, at least until the drone had successfully launched.

"All front line warriors, we need you to hold the Decepticons back!" He issued on every frequency the base had while scanning to see how many they were up against. He wished Prowl was with him instead of at Autobot City; he could really use his strategic mind right about now. "Snipers hide in the foliage and cover the warriors while making sure the path to the anomaly stays clear at all costs! We cannot fail in delivering that databank!"

A chorus a confirmations answered him. The next few breems were filled with stressed orders and curses as both sides engaged in battle. The Decepticons were slowly but surely gaining ground as Skids waited impatiently for Perceptor to finish loading the precious cargo. After what seemed like an eternity, the green light was given and Skids ordered the drone's immediate launch as soon as they were given a window of opportunity.

"Launch the drone now!" Skids shouted over the comm. as soon as one such window presented itself. The mechs hastened to comply and they all watched with hopeful optics as it slipped through the Decepticon blockade and disappear into the time anomaly unscathed. Whoever was in charge of the Decepticon attack force ordered the retreat when they failed to shoot their target out of the sky. The Autobot forces cheered as one as they saw their enemy turn tail and flee.

Skids leaned back in his chair and released an air take slowly, mimicking a human sigh of relief. He allowed to his spark to rise with hope; everything would go on in the way it was originally preordained now hopefully. He had fulfilled his last job in this time verse.

He welcomed the time stream merging with open arms and did not notice the large, black mech fading into existent behind him.


	6. Disheveled

I must admit, I wasn't going to continue the Binaltech plot from Dominant but I don't want Tera Hunter to hang from that cliff for all eternity. Hope you like how it pans out ;3

And hopefully I'll be updating this more regularly. But who knows %D;

**Disclaimer:** No, I still don't own.

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24 -- Disheveled

"_Most people show up for work being physically accoutered but mentally disheveled." -- _Eric Butterworth

"This time merge must not occur."

The statement, which came from directly behind him, shocked Skids back into reality. He quickly turned around in his chair to see a sizeable black mech extend his hands in front of him before everything was engulfed by a brilliant light. Skids was forced to offline his optics before they overloaded but immediately turned them back on after the flash dissipated.

Before him stood the great Optimus Prime. Only…not. The last update from Autobot City had stated that the Autobot leader was on Cyberton, fighting off Unicron with every available Autobot he could spare from Earth. That and the fact that apparently Prime had suddenly decided to trade in his vibrant blues and reds for a deep black and light teal paint job.

"Prime, sir…?" He started off uneasily, not quite sure what make of this development. He was then suddenly struck by how quiet the base had gotten. Only moments before the alarms had been blaring, warning them about warp holes that had been appearing all over -- _Slag! Did the drone not make it after all?_

The Optimus Prime look-alike must of guessed his thoughts for he said, "Don't worry; you managed to warn them in time." The mech looked about, gazing upon the faces which had taken notice to his presence before placing his red optics back on Skids. "This timeline needed to be preserved. I have managed to isolate it outside of the previous continuality so that it can exist independently of the other," he stated which only served to confuse Skids more.

"What? Who _are_ you? Where did you come from?" The acting leader finally asked. He was convinced that this mech was defiantly not Optimus, physical likeness aside.

"You can call me the Protector," he started out and continued to explain. "I am a spark that has come back in time from the distant future. I took over this clone's body to accomplish my mission: to preserve the Binal-Timeline from being merged with the original."

"I see but _why_ have you done so_?_" Skids questioned, frankly getting quite annoyed with this whole timeline business. "What purpose could our timeline possible serve to warrant its' salvation? It was not even supposed to exist in the first place!"

Even though the Protector's mouth was covered with a face plate, Skids could swear that the mech was smiling underneath it. "That is where you are wrong. While it's true that this timeline was originally supposed to disappear, it soon came to knowledge that this universe was the only universe that could bring forth the Alternity."

"The Alternity?" Skids valiantly fought the urge to cover his face with his hands. He couldn't deal with this. Even thinking of the report he was going to have to type up later was making his processor ache.

"Yes, the Binaltech's existence will bring forth the Alternity. It is an existence that will give rise to various beings that will ensure the prosperity and the protection of the various multiverses." He paused, optics narrowing into a sudden glare. "Though I suppose you stupid Autobots will somehow manage to screw it up. You Autoscum always do, after all."

Skids drew back, started by the sudden change in the visitor's attitude. "I beg your pardon?"

The large mech again paused, head slightly shaking as if he was trying to clear it. "My apologies," the Protector, all regal again, calmly stated, throwing Skids for a loop. "It seems that my time in this body is running up." As he was saying so, a large shudder shook his body.

Skids rose slightly from his chair, concerned. "Are you - ?"

"I'm FINE, you Autoidiot!" The Protector snarled and slapped him back into his chair. Glaring Decepticon insignias suddenly appeared on his black shoulders causing the other Autobots warily watching the spectacle to draw their weapons. "Oh, so the little Autotweeps think that they can defeat me, huh? Well, I say to -- "

The black mech's body shuddered violently again, this time an orb of light suddenly stretched out of his chest plate to form a brightly glowing spark. The spark pulsed brightly once before disappearing to parts unknown. The mech that it had come from snarled viciously before he too vanished from the room, albeit with less of a light show. Skids sat in his chair, a bit stunned. He could only be thrown for a loop so many times a day without something having to give in his processor.

"Skids, sir?" A timid voice called from the doorway of the command center and for the second time that day Skids was shocked back into reality. "If I may inquire…what just happened?"

His optics focused onto a half hiding and clearly confused Perceptor. Skids inwardly sighed, himself not quite sure what had just transpired. He had a feeling that the already long cycle was going to grow even longer.


	7. Jealous

_**EDITED 6 / 9 / 210**_

**Disclaimer:** I do not own.

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11 - Jealous

_Our envy of others devours us most of all. - _Alexander Solzhenitsyn

He shouldn't have been bothered by it, really. It made perfect, logical sense, was actually a _given,_ all things considered in their day and age. They were at _war_, after all. But still, he couldn't help the twinge of discontent mixed with envy that gripped him as he watched such young mechs, barely into their first century of life, line up for their daily training sessions with their combat instructor.

He continued to watch as the burly, old mech started out the session with a grandiose speech on what they were to practice this time while walking up and down the ridged line of pupils to look them in the optics one by one. They listened with rapt attention, audios drinking in every word that came from their teacher's vocalizer as if it were energon and they were all running on half empty.

Such juvenile younglings so eager to learn the art of inflicting pain and death on the Decepticons, a side that they probably didn't even understand much less even tried or wanted to.

Skids withheld a rumble of disgust at his latest reflection, unfortunately knowing it to be all too true. Rookie mechs, mechs created after the fighting had already swallowed the previous way of life, didn't care about the series of tragic events that lead up to their brutal civil war. They were onlined with the knowledge that they were on This Side and the only thing that mattered was to win against the Other Side. The educator in Skids shuddered at the thought.

But it also gazed in longing for the young minds the mechs possessed. When was the last time he had been able to teach his trade? To be able to help a willing mech understand how mathematical theories and various philosophies were actually tightly intertwined with one another? How quantum formulas and speculations could be easily understood and even sometimes implement under certain situations?

And what was the point of teaching warrior mechs such pointless things? They didn't need to know how philosophizers debated on the universal understanding of various geometries shapes when all they had to know was how to rip a mech's neck from their shoulder struts. Only things required: a clear window of opportunity and enough brute force to get the job done.

Skids's profession had been rendered obsolete by the war. He knew that, understood it, but it didn't stop him from wanting to be able to teach again.

He turned away from the sparing mechs, unable to watch them any longer while their instructor looked on with approval. Vorns long passed flittered through his processor, vorns when he was in the instructor's place and his students were seated in captivated attention as they listened to his lectures. Vorns that may never come again even if he did managed to survive the war till its end.

He threw one last envious glance over his door wing at the mechs oblivious to his presence before starting in the direction of his quarters. It would do no good for him to reminisce on such things. It only made his spark ache bitterly with emotions that were better left untouched.


	8. Silly

This one and the next few ones take place in G1verse.

And I must admit, Drunk!Skids is way to much fun to write for. 8D

**Disclaimer: **Never have owned them, most likely never will.

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3 -- Silly

"_Silly is you in a natural state, and serious is something you have to do until you can get silly again." -- _Mike Myers

"Hey, Skids, you aright?"

Skids jolted to attention, nearly whacking his helm into Smokescreen's chin in the process. His thoughts felt fuzzy and uncoordinated and he had quite the trouble holding himself upright but he hide it valiantly. He looked up at his friend. Tried to, at the very least. He got as far as the mech's shoulders before having to focus on his midriff since his processor felt like it was going to explode if he moved it up another inch

"Whu?" Came from somewhere and with a slight jolt realized that it had come from his vocalizer.

"Primus Skids, how many drinks have you had?" The red and blue blob that had Smokescreen's voice asked while it reached for one of the empty energon cubes that littered the table. "No, scratch that - how the pits are you keeping all these down and still be online? I would have passed out cycles ago!"

Skids merely gazed forward with unfocused optics, trying to decipher what had been asked of him.

He shuttered his optics. Slowly.

"Magic?" The theoretician speculated.

The blob put down the empty cube and stared in flabbergasted shock. "Wow. Just…wow. You are well and truly over-energized, you know that Skids? I have never seen you like this and I must say it's quite amazing." He sat down on the empty chair besides the leaning mech. "You should do this more often. What happened?"

The over-energized mech made a sloppy gesture to the other end of the table where a chair had been overturned with a body still in it, deep in recharge. "Sideds said somethin', can't remember whut, and I just had ta prove 'im wrong." Skids's optics nearly crossed as he thought hard in vain. "Whut did him bet width me 'bout again…?"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, wait, wait. What? You, Skids, the pinnacle of the straight line, you actually took a bet?" Smokescreen asked in astonishment. "And you did it without me? I am wounded, Skids. _Wounded_."

Skids shrugged, nearly toppled out of his chair in the middle of the gesture. "Happen' fast. Imma pretty sure I won it…I think. Can't really remember. I think it had sumfin'to do with all those drinks..." He looked down to the vast collection of cubes, nearly falling on his face. "I don't really 'member there being this many…"

The multicolored blob shook his head in exasperated amusement. "Must have been a drinking game knowing Sideswipe. I am going to have to ask him how he roped you into it once he's able to think straight."

The Honda merely grunted out something, ignoring Smokescreen's words in favor of trying to not fall over. He had marginal success after he placed his chin back into his upturned palm. Already halfway into recharge, he only gave half a disinterested audio for his friend's sudden monologue that had something to do with once-in-a-lifetime-opportunities and what-kind-of-friend-would-I-be and I-bet-I-could-get-you-to-agree-with-anything-right-about-nows. Skids didn't really care and was almost into peaceful oblivion when he was jostled awake by a hand on his shoulder.

"_What?_" He snapped out and immediately regretted it as it banged around his processor. He cradled his helm in his hands to try to stanch the flood of pain.

"Calm down! Listen to me for a moment," Smokescreen's voice asked softly, compellingly. "I was just wondering if you could do me a little favor, you know, since you went off and made your very first bet with Sideswipe without me. I'm still wounded by that, in case you've forgotten."

Skids low groan morphed into a growled out mumble of "Git to the point!"

The Datsun shrugged off his friend's aggravation with practiced ease. "Well, I just need you to install something for me, nothing too big. I would have one of my regular confidants take care of it but they have been…indisposed as of late."

Even under the influence of an indeterminable amount of high-grade, warning bells still flittered around in Skids's buzzing processor, cautioning him that something was amiss. But they also brought a fair share of pain with them and the Honda found himself willing to do just about anything if it shut his friend up and allowed him to just finally drop into blissful, ache free _recharge_. "Whuteva, I'll do it - just leave me ta wallow in my missiry, ahright?"

His response delivered, Skids allowed his helm to fall onto his stretched out arms limply lying on the cluttered table. In doing so he missed Smokescreen's all too satisfied smirk. "And I didn't even have to get to the part where I was going to bribe you with a new data book of your choice! I'll still include it though, that's how much I like you. I'll even lug your over-energized aft back to our room as a freebie."

Skids grunted as he was lifted from his chair, allowing himself to be dragged off since he knew in the back of his processor that it would be better for him to recharge in his berth and not half-draped over a table. He tried to help move his body weight but his limbs refused to cooperate and he hung limply off of the supporting shoulder, falling into recharge just a few steps out of the still partying rec room.

He would awaken all to soon with a pounding hard drive, a churning fuel tank, and a growing sense of doom as Smokescreen gleefully called upon the favor he had so idiotically agreed to the night before.


	9. Daring

_Zomygawd_, ROTF comes out _tomorrow at midnight _*flails*

**Disclaimer:** No, no. Still don't own.

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20 -- Daring

"_One must work and dare if one really wants to live."_ -- Vincent van Gogh

_Stupid, stupid, stupid!_ Skids mentally berated himself as he crept along the dim hallways of the _Ark_ like an intruder. It was well into the night and the dimmed corridors were, thankfully, more or less deserted of any surprises that could catch him skulking about as he drew closer to his target The cameras might have had posed a problem if Smokescreen hadn't promised that they were already taken care of but that didn't make him feel any better about the situation. _Curse Sideswipe and his high-grade to the pits! This isn't worth the next four months prank-free immunity I won!_ He continued, turning into an adjacent hallway which housed his destination.

The blue Honda was currently fulfilling his 'agreement' with Smokescreen…if one could even call it that. 'Taking advantage of a barely conscious mech' was more of an apt description. Skids irritably reminded himself to give the accused Datsun a piece of his mind if he was still in the land of the functioning once this was all done and over with.

He cautiously edged towards the targeted door after making sure that the hallway was empty of unwanted visitors. The stolen lock code was inputted with barely there soft beeps and the door opened just as silently after the last number was pushed. Skids braced himself, listening hard for any indicator of movement within. After a too long soundless minute passed, he relaxed. _Well, no turning back now_, he thought and allowed himself in.

Even though the room was almost completely incased in shadows he could still faintly make out the occupant's outline with the help of the muted light spilling in from the hallway. His target was sprawled upon his berth, mouth agape, optics loosely shuttered, oblivious that his sanctuary had been invaded. Skids closed and locked the door behind him and in doing so plunged himself into near darkness. He hoped that he wasn't trapping himself in.

He fervently hoped that the rumors of his target being able to recharge through almost anything was true. Skids had no desire to be caught doing the dirty deed by the mech in his crosshairs. He couldn't even _image_ how horrifyingly awkward it would be.

With that thought looming in his processor, Skids steeled his courage and set out to work. He was almost done in ten minutes, hacking into the unfortunate mech's programming being ridiculously easy, making tiny alterations to certain programs even easier. The blue Honda left in just under twenty minutes after making sure his hacking attempt was thoroughly erased and left everything just as it was before he had intruded. Just to be sure, he even retraced his steps back to the door. Throughout the entire episode, the pranked bot didn't even twitch a servo.

Skids left as silently as he entered and quickly fled back to his quarters, passing no one on the return trip. He didn't realize that his hands were minutely shaking till after he entered his quarters and sat heavily on his berth. He was irrationally glad that Smokescreen was out on night patrol and didn't have to watch his pathetic display of nerves.

The blue Honda slowly released a pent up air take to calm his anxiety, thinking about what he had just done…and started quietly chuckle. It soon exploded into full out laughter which he did best to muffle lest somebot out in the hall hear him even though it was highly unlikely. After a bit, Skids managed to get his sudden mirth under control and eased down onto his berth, smiling. He made sure to set his alarm early though his shift wasn't until the late afternoon by human standards.

He wanted to be there to see their faces.


End file.
